


Get Me to the Church on Time

by Minutia_R



Series: Consequences [2]
Category: The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: F/F, F/M, Future Fic, Post-Blood of Olympus, Spoilers, Timey-Wimey, Weddings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-20
Updated: 2015-11-19
Packaged: 2018-02-21 21:56:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2483810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minutia_R/pseuds/Minutia_R
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Six years after the events of Blood of Olympus, everyone is coming to New Rome for Hazel and Frank's wedding.  There's just one problem--Frank is missing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Frank

**Author's Note:**

> I'll be adding characters and pairings and other tags as relevant as I go along. This takes place in the same universe as [Empty Garden](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2452706), and you may as well read that because it's short, but if you'd rather not you can probably figure out what's going on without it. It's not a direct follow-up, anyway.

The spirits were closing in, and Frank dropped his bow and drew his spear. He stabbed a World War I doughboy in the chest, then brought the point up under the chinstrap of a legionnaire who didn’t seem to care about his praetor status, and they dissolved into mist.

It wasn’t that hard. All of his enemies--at least so far--were land-bound, and he had his back to the river, so there was a limit to how many of them could attack at once. And they weren’t particularly fast, or particularly good. He could do this all day, except--

Except he didn’t have all day. He had to finish this in a hurry. There was something--or somewhere--had he left the gas on?

The idea made Frank pause, and he nearly got his ear taken off by a ghostly cleaver. It was an expression from the days when gas stoves didn’t automatically turn off when there wasn’t a fire lit in them. Someone he knew used to use it. His mom?

The harder Frank tried to remember, the more it got away from him, like the scraps of a dream. He’d been asleep. Then someone had woken him, a skinny boy with bright black eyes who looked oddly familiar, although Frank would have sworn he’d never seen him before in his life. But he’d been scared, and he’d needed Frank’s help; he’d held out his hand and Frank had taken it, and then--

That was all Frank could remember, except for the growing conviction that he didn’t have _time_ for this.

“Incoming!” a voice shouted, and something came flying through the air towards Frank. Before he could decide whether to duck or what, it exploded in a shower of . . . popcorn? The buttery smell filled the air and the crowd of spirits gave a howl of despair. Through their melting forms, Frank saw someone straighten up and dust himself off.

“Guess what? I finally figured out what popcorn grenades are good for! It turns out that restless spirits--”

_It’s a dream_ , Frank told himself, stunned. _It’s just--_ But it wasn’t. He ran across the ground, popcorn crunching underfoot, and wrapped his arms around his friend; real, warm, alive, safe.

“Ow! Ow! I’m happy to see you, too, but I’d be even happier with an intact rib cage.” Leo wriggled free of Frank’s hug and held him at arm’s length, looking up at him. “Whoa, dude, what happened to you? You get blessing-of-Mars’d again?”

“It’s called growing up, you twit.” It was so easy to fall back into the rhythm of conversation with Leo, almost like . . . Frank looked at Leo, past the grime on his face and the familiar manic grin, and really looked. He hadn’t changed since the last time Frank had seen him. Like, at all. Frank remembered something from the note Percy had found on Ogygia-- _unless it really is a hundred years in the future_ \--and formed an uncomfortable suspicion. “It’s been six years,” he said. “I mean, for me.”

“Six _years?_ ” Leo’s voice broke. And boy, was Frank glad he was done with that. But apparently Leo wasn’t.

“What, you were prepared for a hundred but not six?”

Leo shook his head. “A hundred years is too big to get my head around, you know? But this . . .” Then what Frank had said caught up with him, and the grin was back, at least a little. “Hey, you got my note! I guess that explains why you’re not murdering me after I left you hanging for . . .” His voice faltered again. “. . . _six years_ . . .”

“Nah. I mean, we were all pretty mad at first, but we’ve had time to get over it.” Frank scooped up his bow and as many of his arrows as he could find, rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment. “We never stopped looking for you exactly, but . . . as time went on and we didn’t make any progress, it just sort of gradually . . . became a lower priority.”

For a second it looked like Leo was going to be angry, and Frank couldn’t blame him. Put like that, it sounded really cold. But then he got a look like something was clicking into place in his head, and he nodded. “Yeah. I get that,” he said. By the river, the mist was starting to coalesce into vaguely human shapes again. “The effects of the popcorn grenade won’t last long. We’d better get back to my camp. It’s fortified, a bit, and most of what lives around here doesn’t like to tangle with Festus.”

Frank looked around, not focused on Leo or on fighting for his life now, and wondered for the first time _where_ exactly he was. There was a river, with mist hanging over it, and bare, rocky ground with hills in the middle distance, and the sky overhead was a featureless pre-dawn gray.

“And you’ll get to meet Calypso! You’ll like her, she’s so great, and wow, six years, what have you been up to this whole time?” The pace of Leo’s speech was increasing with the pace of his feet, as spirits gathered behind them. Frank shifted his grip on his bow, flipped an arrow into his right hand. “And how’s Piper and Jason and Hazel and--”

“Hazel!” Frank jumped like he’d been shocked. “Holy Mars, I can’t _believe_ . . . how could I just _forget_ . . .”

“Probably stood too close to the Lethe,” said Leo. “It can have weird effects, even if you don’t actually go swimming in it. What about Hazel? Is she okay?”

The Lethe? But that meant . . . a spirit dressed in a French officer’s uniform from the Napoleonic Wars ran at them, howling. Frank shot it and it dissolved into mist, and Leo pulled him behind a pile of rocks.

“We’re getting _married_ in the morning,” said Frank. “I’ve got to get back to New Rome.”

“Oh.” Leo’s voice was small and apologetic. He didn’t offer Frank any congratulations. “That might be a bit of a problem.”


	2. Hazel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Plotty fic full of peril, action, and magical adventures? Or fluffy wedding fic with hairstyles and presents and hugs?
> 
> WHY NOT BOTH

“There.” Hylla finished off one last braid, tucked it into the coil of hair piled on top of Hazel’s head, and fixed it in place with a jeweled butterfly. “What do you think?”

Hazel reached out to touch her reflection in the mirror, but dropped her hand quickly when Reyna barked, “Watch the nails!”

She had to admit, she’d been dubious when the Ramirez-Arellano sisters had offered to do her hair and nails for the wedding.

(“Hey,” Hylla had said, “before Reyna joined the army--

“And Hylla started trying to take over the world,” Reyna put in--

“We used to work at a spa.”)

But now Hazel was a believer. “You’ve made me so beautiful,” she said.

“You were already beautiful,” said Annabeth, who’d been on passing-over-hairpin duty. “You do look really glamorous, though. When Frank sees you he’s going to be so flustered he’ll turn into a tapir or something.”

Hazel laughed and her cheeks burned. “Oh, go on.”

“It’s true! Though I would have thought you’d know too much about actual magic to put up with superstitious crap like ‘it’s bad luck to see each other on your wedding day.’ Percy and I sure didn’t.”

“No offense, Annabeth, but you and Percy had the least romantic wedding ever,” said Hazel. “I don’t even want to know what his proposal was like.”

Annabeth snorted. “As if Percy could ever have gotten his shit together enough to propose. It was more like, ‘Hey, Seaweed Brain, now that we’re eighteen we don’t need our parents’ signatures for a marriage license.’”

Reyna threw back her head and laughed. “Yeah? And how did he answer that declaration of undying love?”

“He said, ‘Okay, but I should probably tell my mom first anyway,’” said Annabeth with a shrug.

“See, there’s a male who knows his place,” said Hylla. “That’s what I’m talking about. You know, Hazel, it’s not too late for me to get you that iron collar--”

“No,” said Hazel.

Hylla made a disappointed-but-resigned face. “Gift certificates it is, then. Buy yourselves something fun.”

“I was thinking, like, dishes,” Hazel muttered.

Reyna took Hazel’s left hand, examined the nails, and then the right one. “You should be safe to use your hands now,” she said.

Hazel stood and picked up her skirts. “Right, let’s go.”

They trooped out to of the back room of the temple of Juno where Reyna and Hylla had set up their temporary salon, under the indulgent smile of the goddess’ statue (whoever had carved it had probably met Juno; she looked exactly like that when she was about to give you a particularly nasty piece of news) and out into the temple garden. Don and a couple of his faun friends were draping garlands of flowers from the branches of the quince and apple trees. (Jason had promised them hors d'oeuvres.)

“Huh,” said Reyna, looking around the garden with a frown. “I was expecting--”

Just then the air felt heavy, and there were voices from the shadows where the trees were thicker.

“I swear, Will, every batch of this gum you cook up tastes fouler than the last.”

“You’re not falling asleep at your sister’s wedding! We could have come last night, but no, you said--”

“Nico!” cried Hazel, dashing into the trees and colliding with him in a hug that stopped just short of a tackle.

“Careful of the pointy bits!” said Nico in a strangled voice. He returned Hazel’s hug more gingerly.

Will stood glowing at his shoulder like a reverse shadow. “Congratulations, Hazel. You look lovely.”

“You too,” she said, letting go of Nico and rising up onto her tiptoes to kiss the air next to Will’s cheek. It was true. Nico in a tuxedo looked like Count Dracula. Will in a tuxedo looked like he was about to start peeling out of it as soon as the music started. _Down, girl. He’s your brother’s boyfriend, and also, you’re getting married._

“So,” said Nico, “is there like a table where I should put the presents, or . . .”

“Presents!” Hazel squealed, Will forgotten for the moment.

Nico laughed. “Or I could give yours to you now.” He shrugged something off his shoulder. 

There was a sheath, as long as Hazel’s arm and made of tooled leather, such a rich brown it was almost gold. It matched the wood of the hilt sticking out of it, and the golden eagle on the pommel. Hazel carefully drew the sword; it was a spatha, like she was used to using, so perfectly balanced it felt like it didn’t weigh anything, three and a quarter feet of light-drinking Stygian iron. “Wow,” she breathed.

“Yeah, and I had it made with a shoulder harness because I figured it might get in your way less when you’re riding?” said Nico.

Hazel buckled the sword on, and it hung comfortably across her back; she drew it, sheathed it again. It wasn’t the movement she’d always trained with, but yeah, she could get used to this.

“I’m not sure it goes with the dress, though,” said Will.

Hazel stuck her tongue out at him. “Don’t care, it’s gorgeous, I’m wearing it.”

“There’s also a bow for Frank,” said Nico. “I should probably let him see it first? It was really a sister of Will’s who made that one.”

Will shoved him in the shoulder. “Stop being so self-deprecating. Yeah, Kayla does good work, but it was Nico who sourced all the materials. I don’t even know how he got ahold of Heavenly jade.”

“It was no big deal. I did a favor for a dragon when I was in China a few years ago, I just called it in. There’s not much material in arrowheads anyway.”

Will and Hazel shared a long-suffering look. There was the squeal of tires on the street outside, and a little electric blue car pulled up (as in, it was electric blue and also electric. Hazel had lived long enough to see electric cars become the cool new thing.) The three of them went back out into the open part of the garden in time to get ambush-hugged by Piper. Nico’s attempts at using Will as a human hug-shield were fruitless.

“This is gonna be great. I love weddings,” said Piper.

“She loves weddings so much she sometimes randomly crashes them,” Annabeth informed the rest of them, still a bit winded from her hug.

“You’re not still mad about that time in Santa Rosa, are you?”

“Someday you’re going to land yourself in trouble you won’t be able to talk your way out of.”

“Hasn’t happened yet.” Piper tried to put an arm around Hazel’s shoulders, but the sword was in the way, so she settled for around the waist. “So, beautiful bride. Is it true Jason’s going to be officiating?”

“Yeah, it turns out that not only is he Pontifex Maximus of New Rome, he’s also a registered clergyman in the State of California,” said Hazel.

“And here comes the groom’s party now! Hey, guys!” Piper did a big wave, and they all looked down the main boulevard of Temple Hill. Coach Hedge’s son Chuck was trotting towards them on stubby goat legs while his sister floated overhead, shedding little wisps of cloud, and Annabeth and Percy’s toddler tried desperately to keep up with them. She fell down, and Percy rushed forward and scooped her up before she started to cry. Jason and Coach Hedge trailed a little behind. They looked like they were arguing about something. But . . .

“Where’s Frank?” said Hazel.

From the look on Percy’s face when he came into the temple precinct, he didn’t have any sort of good answer to that. “He didn’t meet us by the principia when he was supposed to. And he isn’t in his rooms, or the baths, or any of the barracks, or anywhere. Jason flew all over the city, and we stopped at the temples of Venus and Mars just in case, but . . . we were hoping he was with you.”

“That rat bastard,” Hylla growled.

Hazel shook her head. “No. It’s not that, it’s--” she held onto Piper’s arm for support, because she’d almost rather it was, rather Frank had left her at the altar than whatever had happened to keep him from his wedding. Because there was no way Frank would ever.

Reyna came up and put her hand on Hazel’s shoulder, and Hazel felt less like her knees were going to give out.

“Let’s not panic,” said Annabeth. “Nico, is Frank dead?”

Nico shook his head.

“So there’s that, anyway,” said Annabeth. “Now, when was the last time anyone--”

“Dragon!” Chuck shouted, pointing.

Hazel followed his finger to a dark silhouette high up in the blue sky. “Frank?” she said.

But Frank as a dragon was usually green, and as this one dropped lower she could see it was bronze. And there was something strange about the way its wings moved, something mechanical. “Festus!” Piper cried.

Jason shaded his eyes, lifted a few feet off the ground, said, “Leo.”

But it wasn’t. It was someone else riding Festus, leaning low over his neck, her braid flying out behind her, looking more elegant in a stained t-shirt and jeans than Will did in a tuxedo, or Reyna in a stola. Hazel knew that face, the high forehead and delicate jaw line; she had drawn it once.

“Calypso?” said Percy.

“Hello, Percy, you’re looking well,” said Calypso. She was hovering now a bit over their heads, but she didn’t come down any further, although there was plenty of room in the garden of Juno for a dragon to land. Calypso frowned, scanned the crowd, her eyes finally coming to rest on Hazel. “You must be Hazel.”

Calypso smiled, and flickered--for a second Hazel couldn’t figure out why she and all her friends were clumped together on one side of the garden, staring at a patch of empty space. And then Calypso and the dragon were back. It wasn’t an illusion, a trick of the Mist; it was more like . . . Calypso _probably_ wasn’t there, but _maybe_ she was. It was nothing like the way Hazel did magic. But she could kind of see how it worked. “You’re not really here, are you?” she said. “That’s why you can’t land.”

“I could,” Calypso corrected her. “I’m just not sure I’d be able to get back if I did. But you should be able to come with me. Leo tells me you’re a sorceress.”

Hazel had about a million questions, but she only had time for the important ones. “Come with you where?”

“The underworld?” Calypso shook her head uncertainly. “Not exactly, but near there. The trouble is, we got so lost.”

A chill ran through Hazel, like she could feel the unflinching stares of the judges of the dead on her skin, and the ceaseless, bitter winds of Asphodel. If she set foot in the Underworld, she didn’t think she’d be allowed to leave again.

“Is that where Frank is?”

“Yes, that’s how I found my way,” said Calypso. “He wants to be here very badly.”

_So why didn’t you bring him_ wasn’t one of the important questions. They could cover that one on the way. Hazel reached for Calypso. “Give me a hand up, will you?”

Calypso leaned out over Festus’ neck, grabbed Hazel below the arms--she was stronger than she looked; it probably came of being a Titan’s daughter--and hoisted her up behind. Hazel adjusted herself to Calypso’s level of reality. It was a _little_ like manipulating the Mist.

“Hazel!” called a voice from below. Nico was pale, worried, but he wasn’t trying to call her back. He was holding a long, thin, cloth-wrapped package, and when she caught his eye he handed it to Will, who threw it end-over-end in a perfect rising arc, straight to Hazel’s hand. It was the bow they’d gotten for Frank. Hazel lifted it over her head in a parting salute. With her other hand, she held tight to Calypso’s waist, and they lifted off into the sky.


	3. Calypso

Calypso could feel the girl--Hazel--shivering against her back as Festus rose higher into the sky. She clutched the cloth-wrapped package the blond young man had thrown her tightly. He would have done better to throw her his jacket.

“Why couldn’t you have brought Frank along?” said Hazel. “And Leo?”

“Not everyone can travel like this,” said Calypso. “You’re a sorceress, and Festus can because I made some modifications to him. And also, the ones who were hunting us were looking for Leo, and a dragon, and me. And they will have found Leo, and a dragon, and--something that looks like me, anyway.”

“A Mistform,” said Hazel.

“Close enough. It will have faded by now, but it served its purpose as a diversion. A good plan. It was Frank’s.”

Calypso could hear the smile in Hazel’s voice when she answered. “Yeah, he’s good at those.”

The navigational unit on the back of Festus’ neck gave a ping, and Calypso looked down and decided to keep flying. Percy had told her the world had changed while she was on Ogygia, and Leo had tried to describe it, but none of that had prepared her for the reality. Even what she had seen of New Rome had been totally alien, and there at least the roads and buildings and fields had been on a scale she could understand. What she saw below her--it was no good anyway. Too many observers would interfere with her magic.

The next time the unit pinged was more hopeful. It was a marsh, with a system of bridges and walkways over the water. She urged Festus downwards, and saw that there were a few walkers on the pathways, but none near the rusty shack where the signal was strongest. “Be careful,” she told Hazel as they landed. “Don’t collapse the weave of the spell. I can only land at all because it’s a place where the borders between possibilities are thin. There should be an entrance to the Labyrinth here.”

“Should be? Isn’t this the way you came?”

Calypso slid off Festus’ back and examined the shack, found a glowing blue triangle by the door. “I can’t navigate the Labyrinth, or bend it to my will. I came the direct way, through the Underworld. But for you--”

“Going through the Underworld isn’t a good idea,” Hazel finished. She ducked into the shack, and Calypso put Festus into suitcase mode and followed her. They were in a bare tunnel, smelling of earth. In the dark, Hazel’s eyes almost glowed. “You know a lot about me.”

“Leo is very fond of you,” said Calypso. “And he talks a lot.”

Hazel gave a short, despite-herself laugh. “He does. But if he’s so fond of me--he had me pull the switch with the Physician’s Cure, I knew he had a backup plan, why couldn’t he have told me, _by the way, if it works, you won’t be seeing me for a while?_ I spent months thinking he was dead! I’d still think he was dead if Percy hadn’t found his note.”

“If Percy hadn’t found the note,” said Calypso, “it would have been because he broke his word to help me.”

“That’s not my fault!” said Hazel. “And anyway--well, what does it matter? That was a long time ago.”

She was saying what she really felt, Calypso thought, about it not mattering. Even her brief flash of anger was more working off her nerves about the current situation, about Frank. Calypso tried to hide her laugh, but Hazel saw it.

“What?” she demanded.

“You think six years is a long time. That’s . . . cute. And the children of Hades are supposed to be famous for holding grudges.”

“Pluto,” said Hazel.

“Oh, right, the Roman Empire,” said Calypso. “I missed that one. Well, maybe that accounts for the difference.”

Hazel touched the wall. It was nothing like the way Calypso did magic, but she could feel how the maze moved around her. “The Underworld?” said Hazel. “Or near there?”

“We fetched up by the River Lethe, on the opposite bank from Hades’ realm,” said Calypso.

“The opposite bank. Well, that’s something, I guess.” Hazel led the way through a shiny metal corridor. Green lights shone on the walls and the floor sloped steeply downwards. Calypso had to use all her strength to keep Festus from rolling away from her. She and Leo would have to make some improvements to suitcase mode, next time they got a chance to work on him. “And you . . . fetched up there?”

“We were lost, as I said,” said Calypso impatiently. It wasn’t something she really liked admitting, much less repeating. “And a powerful force drew us to that spot.”

“Great. Specific and helpful,” Hazel muttered. Calypso was beginning to see why Leo liked this girl.

The metal corridor turned into a narrow passage with timber walls and a rough stone floor. At least the floor was more-or-less level, although Festus bounced around a lot. And then he hit something that wasn’t an irregularity in the stonework. It was a skeletal hand, and the rest of the skeleton followed, pulling itself up out of the ground. Calypso backed up, pulling Festus, but two more skeletons were coming out of the ground behind her.

“Shit,” said Hazel. Awkwardly, she jammed the package she carried into her sword harness, put her hand on the hilt of the sword, then thought better of it. “I need _room!_ ”

She threw her hands out to the sides with a shoving gesture, and the narrow tunnel grew into a chamber. Then she drew her sword and launched herself among the skeletons. She moved so fast, she seemed to be in several different places at once. Or--that wasn’t just moving fast, that was illusions.

Hazel didn’t seem to be doing much damage to the skeletons, But she was getting them to move where she wanted them to move; they were all in a clump now at the far end of the chamber instead of surrounding her and Calypso.

“Move!” said Hazel, and Calypso pulled Festus as fast as she could away from the skeletons, while Hazel closed the walls over them. It was very neatly done; when she was finished there wasn’t even a chink in the stone to show that the passage they were standing in had recently been a different shape.

Hazel rested her arm on the wall, and her head on her arm, breathing hard. Her skirt was torn, and several little braids had worked their way free of her hairstyle and fallen across her face. “If you needed help with Underworld stuff,” she said, “why didn’t you bring Nico? He could have banished those skeletons by snapping his fingers. And he shadow-travels all the time; I’m sure he could’ve handled that flight back there.”

“You may be right,” said Calypso. “Leo never told me much about Nico.”

Calypso watched emotions play over Hazel’s face--bitterness, resignation, an old familiar hurt--and wondered how to say what she had to say next. Hazel might not be the type to hold grudges, but Calypso sensed that her anger could be formidable.

During her long captivity on Ogygia, Calypso had been dependent for any lightening of her solitude on the whims of the gods, and the constancy of their children--chancy things, at best. Shouldn’t freedom have set her free of that? _I should have left when I could_ , Calypso thought. _Flown fast and far and never looked back._ But Leo was depending on her, and Frank was, and it wasn’t in Calypso’s nature to abandon someone who needed her help. She had to hope it wasn’t in Hazel’s nature either, because it would be so easy for this mayfly half-mortal to leave her alone in the dark.

“Frank couldn’t remember exactly how he found us,” said Calypso. “But he remembered a young boy--black hair, black eyes, skinny--who took his hand and pulled him into the dark.”

“Nico?” said Hazel. Then she shook her head impatiently. “That makes no sense--Frank _knows_ Nico--he was there, you saw him--he’s not a kid.”

“Yes, but. Imagine you’re setting up your loom.” Calypso sketched it in the air with her hands. “Now you have the warp threads which are fixed in place, and the shuttle moves between them--” She broke off, because Hazel was looking lost. Maybe looms worked differently in the modern world. “Or--picture a river.” They still had those, there had been one in New Rome. “It flows fast and strong, always in the same direction. And there’s an island in the middle of the river, rising above the surface. The water flows past and doesn’t touch it. The river is time, and the island--”

“Ogygia,” said Hazel.

She caught on fast. Calypso nodded encouragingly. “But then something happens. The island is washed away; the waters cover it, and the river flows on, but not unchanged. Where the island used to be, there are eddies--places where the water isn’t all flowing in the same direction. It makes very little difference to the river as a whole, but--”

“You’re saying that Leo’s rescue operation disrupted the timestream, and Frank got nabbed by a past version of Nico,” Hazel translated. Which wasn’t exactly right, but it was another point in favor of the modern world: they had invented jeans and t-shirts, and they had a vocabulary to talk about things like this. “But why--and something’s hunting you? Nico wouldn’t do that. And he’s got no reason to hurt you. Has he?”

Calypso shook her head. “I don’t know of one. But that means nothing.”

Hazel scowled, like she was taking what Calypso had said as an insult to her brother. That wasn’t what she’d meant at all. But at least Hazel seemed willing to stick with Calypso for now, so she decided to cut her losses and stop talking before she made things worse.

There was a light at the end of the tunnel now; a familiar gray twilight, the smell of stagnant air and mist. Presently they came out of a cave on a hillside. A plain stretched below them, with a river running through it.

“The Lethe,” said Hazel. “At least I think so. I came in the front door the first time, over the Styx, but--”

“It’s in your blood,” said Calypso, and Hazel nodded. Her shiver probably wasn’t because of her inadequate dress this time.

Calypso pressed a combination of buttons on Festus’ display, and he stretched himself out into a dragon once more, shaking his wings and rumbling deep in his throat. Calypso didn’t understand Festus as well as Leo did, but she could tell he didn’t like suitcase mode much. She started to climb onto his neck, and as she did, another skeleton appeared from further down the slope. “Festus--”

“Wait,” said Hazel. “I recognize him. That’s a friend, I think.”

“Your friend--the animated skeleton?” But it was coming up the path slowly, not attacking, beckoning and pointing.

“Be polite. He’s a spartus. His name is Gray.” Hazel walked towards the skeletal warrior, hands open and empty in front of her. “What is it, Gray? Is it Frank?”

Gray nodded, gestured more emphatically, and Hazel followed him down the slope. Calypso urged Festus after her, and he picked his way through the rocks delicately, although the twitching of his shoulders told Calypso that he would rather be flying.

Hazel smiled back over her shoulder at Calypso. “Frank’s got a good head for tactics. But what he’s really good at is inspiring loyalty from his troops.”

Calypso hoped she was right.

As they descended to the plain, things began to look familiar. There was the camp that Calypso and Leo had made, and defended for a few days against the increasing assaults of the undead while they tried to work out where they should be going. And there was the wide black scorch mark where Frank, in dragon form, had blasted a line of attackers while Calypso and Festus had made their unobtrusive getaway. And there--

“Frank!” shouted Hazel, drawing her sword and charging, Gray close behind her. Calypso spurred Festus into the air. From here, she could see the shock of black hair and the blur of blue shirt that was Frank, human again; he’d warned them that he couldn’t hold a dragon’s form for long. All she could see of Leo among the mass of spirits and skeletons and things with wings and claws was a wavering plume of smoke. Festus dove, with a screech of metal that was sweeter to Calypso’s ears under these circumstances than music. Hazel sliced a ghostly warrior in two.

But if Calypso had expected the mass of undead to be divided or distracted by the new threat, she was mistaken. They kept moving forward, and Leo and Frank kept backing up, towards a jagged hill, until they were standing in its shadow--and then they vanished, along with as many of the spirits had stepped into the shadow with them. Those that were left turned on Hazel and Gray, and the ones with wings on Calypso and Festus, but sluggishly; whatever had been driving them had disappeared with Leo and Frank.

“We’re too late,” said Calypso, hardly believing it.

“No,” said Hazel. She sheathed her sword and leapt, grabbing hold of Festus’ tail. “Festus, go!” And Festus made for the spot where Leo and Frank had disappeared. The shadows at the edges of the Underworld were dim, like the light, but when they touched the shadow of the hill, it was absolutely black. It engulfed them: black, cold, and fast. Calypso could hardly catch her breath, and when she did, she got the feeling that the medium they were travelling through wasn’t air. She clung tightly to Festus with legs and hands, his bronze ridges biting into her skin. If she let go, if she fell--

She didn’t know what would happen if she fell. But she heard the echo of a scream in her mind, high and faint and suddenly, sickeningly cut off.

And then they fell out of the cold and dark into a dry heat like a desert, and blazing light. Calypso hid her face in the crook of her arm against the glare, not daring to let go of Festus, not daring to open her eyes. But slowly she did let go and she did open them. Electric lights. It was only electric lights, she knew electric lights, thanks to Leo she’d be able to fix them if they broke better than most inhabitants of this modern city. It was only that she’d never seen so many of them, so bright, so close. And cars. She’d thought Leo’s projects were loud and smelly when he’d first started working on them on Ogygia, but this was beyond anything Calypso could have imagined. It took a few seconds before she could hear Hazel speaking above all of that.

“Didn’t want to think you were right, that Nico was involved in any of this.” Hazel’s voice was slurred and her eyelids heavy; she leaned against Festus as if he were the only thing keeping her upright. “But I don’t know anyone else who could’ve led me on a hellride like that.”

“Where are we?” said Calypso.

Hazel shrugged. “Dunno.”

“You’re the one from this millenium.” Calypso tried to keep the sharp note of panic from her voice, but if Hazel was as lost as she felt, if she fell asleep and left Calypso to fend for both of them-- _better than being trapped in the Labyrinth_ , Calypso told herself, but she wasn’t sure if it was true.

“Yeah, but not from this century.” At least Calypso’s sharpness seemed to have pricked Hazel awake, grumpily. “And I don’t--no, I _do_ know.” Hazel pointed at one of the many bright, flashing signs overhead. Calypso couldn’t read it. She’d gotten the language upgrade every time Olympus had moved, but writing was an art that postdated her exile, and she’d never seen much use for it. But she recognized the picture on the sign, stylized as it was. A lotus flower.

“We’re in Las Vegas,” said Hazel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're wondering why Frank's shirt is blue, the answer is this:


	4. Reyna

Jason took off into the sky after the bronze dragon, and Hedge’s daughter Buttercup flew after him--not that she understood what was going on, but she liked flying with Jason. When she realized he wasn’t going to play with her now, she settled back down somewhere in the vicinity of the ground, bored again.

Reyna, and the rest of the wedding guests, kept watching the sky until it was empty. Percy was the first to speak.

“‘You’re looking _well_.’ What the--heck is that supposed to mean?”

Shaken as he was--he was even whiter than usual around the mouth and the knuckles--he had the presence of mind to moderate his language in front of his daughter, who he was still holding on his hip. Reyna didn’t really see the point. Kids who grew up around Camp Jupiter tended to swear like legionnaires as soon as they could talk. But then, Damasen wasn’t at that stage yet--she had about a dozen words, none of them profanities.

“You do clean up pretty good,” said Piper, giving Percy an exaggerated up-and-down. “And the last time Calypso saw you you were--?”

“Burned nearly to death when Mount Saint Helens erupted,” said Annabeth. “Also like seven inches shorter.”

“Well, there you go.” Piper held out her arms. “Want to come to Piper, Dama?”

Damasen gave a wriggle, and Percy passed her over and sat down heavily on a bench. Annabeth squeezed his shoulders.

“You know you had to let them go, right?” said Piper. She sat down too, bounced Damasen on her knee, and looked at all of them around the grove. Nico had a faraway look in his eyes, and hadn’t irritably twitched Will’s hand off his shoulder. Reyna realized that she and Hylla had drawn closer, too--back to back, instinctively, though there was nothing to defend against. “As soon as they find Frank--and they will find Frank--as long as Frank and Hazel are together, nothing’s gonna stop them.”

Reyna couldn’t tell if Piper was using charmspeak. That bothered her. But it was true enough that Hazel and Frank were two of the most formidable demigods Reyna had ever served with, and she couldn’t do them any good by worrying, anyway.

Jason came back then, landing lightly on the grass. “I couldn’t keep up,” he said. “And the wind spirits all swore there’d never been a flying dragon there.”

“That’s what Hazel said, too. That Calypso wasn’t really there,” said Annabeth. “I wonder--”

“Calypso also said where they were going,” said Nico. “The Underworld. I’m going to go look for them.”

“I’ll come with you.” Will, Annabeth, and Percy had all spoken at once. Nico made a face like he was sucking on a lemon.

“I appreciate the offer, guys. But this is Underworld stuff, and I can really handle it better on my own.” He turned to Will. “I’m not going to do anything dangerous, just talk to a few people. And other things. And I’ll be in touch if I need backup, see?” He took a prism out of his pocket and it glittered in the sunlight.

“Those don’t work very well in the Underworld,” Will complained. He leaned forward and kissed Nico quickly. “Good luck.”

Nico gave the ghost of a smile before he disappeared into the shadows.

“Right,” said Reyna. “I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’ve got to tell the Legion.” They would be, all of them, polishing up their armor, sharpening their weapons, making sure everything was inspection-proper. “Since I’m the only praetor they’ve got. Again.”

Jason and Percy both winced at that, but neither of them offered to accompany Reyna back to Camp Jupiter, and she wouldn’t have taken them up on it if they had. They were both discharged veterans (Jason honorably; Percy . . . had needed a little more rule-bending and a special session of the Senate to get that status, since he hadn’t even served a full year of his ten) but it wasn’t their place anymore.

It took less than ten minutes from the time Reyna found a couple of centurions and told them to pass on the message and muster their cohorts until the entire legion was assembled on the Field of Mars. The legion was efficient, but not usually that efficient; as Reyna had expected, they’d been just about ready to turn out anyway, in Frank and Hazel’s honor. Surveying the troops from the vantage of Guido’s back, she didn’t see a single sword hung askew, or a single buckle that didn’t gleam.

“I know you weren’t expecting me to come here by myself,” Reyna began. Briefly, she described what had happened in the temple of Juno, trying to put forth confidence and patience. She got back confusion, worry, fear.

Bobby, one of the Fifth Cohort’s centurions, stepped forward, and Reyna acknowledged him. “We’re ready to go search for them--the Fifth Cohort is, just give us the word, and we’ll march right now.”

“We’re give them some time to get back on their own first,” said Reyna. “Also, Nico DiAngelo is already looking for them in the Underworld, and there’s no one better qualified to do that.”

Mike Kahale stepped forward from the First Cohort, his fellow centurion Flavia at his elbow. Reyna frowned. Mike was a good officer in his way, but just about everything he said was at least half somebody else’s idea. “I’m sure Pluto’s son is competent,” he rumbled, “but I don’t trust him.”

“Really.” Reyna slid down from Guido’s back and stood toe-to-toe with Mike, which might not have been the best idea; he overtopped her by a head. “And why is that? Is it the way he nearly killed himself bringing the Athena Parthenos to where we needed it most? Is it the way he prevented the auxiliaries that Octavian brought in from massacring the Legion? I have trusted Nico with my life and my honor, and he’s never disappointed me.”

“You weren’t there,” said Mike. “At the end of the war with Gaea, I saw--there was no point in mentioning it at the time, but--”

“Centurion,” said Reyna. “Do you have a _specific_ accusation to make against Nico DiAngelo?”

Mike let his heels touch the ground, and his shoulders fall back in an uneasy parade rest. “No.”

Flavia wasn’t happy about that, but she couldn’t contradict him. She’d been on _probatio_ during the war against Gaea; Octavian had been her sponsor as well as her cousin, but she hadn’t been one of his inner circle. Whatever Mike was referring to, Flavia hadn’t seen it either.

“Calypso is a Greek goddess, isn’t she?” Flavia said instead. “This isn’t the first time Greeks have swooped down out of the sky and abducted legionnaires. You advised doing nothing last time too.”

Reyna raised her eyebrows. “And if the legion had listened to my counsel?”

“Then we wouldn’t have been where we needed to be to defeat Gaea’s forces,” said Flavia smugly.

“But--!” said Reyna. Flavia wasn’t as nasty as her cousin. But she had the same trick he’d had, of turning Reyna’s words in a direction she had never intended and leaving her speechless, like twisting a knife out of her hand. “This isn’t a session of the Senate, and it’s not the place for debate. Twelfth Legion, you’re dismissed. No war games tonight. Have some faith in Frank and Hazel. They’ll be back.”

By the time Reyna had given Guido a rubdown and gotten back to her house, she was exhausted. Hylla, Jason, and Piper were waiting there for her.

“Coach Hedge got a call from Chiron,” said Jason. “There’s a daughter of Apollo in trouble with the law in Arizona, and he was closest. He just went to drop the kids off with Mellie before heading out.”

“I’ve got to go, too,” said Hylla. “Corporate empire to run. But every time a drone delivers a package, it’ll be keeping one electronic eye open for Hazel and Frank.”

She folded Reyna in a hug, and Reyna remembered when Hylla’s arms had meant safety, when she’d shared her strength and endurance with a girl too little to have any of her own. Reyna must have been really tired to remember those times with any fondness now. “Thanks,” she said.

Hylla ruffled her hair. “Hey, she’s my friend, too, dork.”

“Annabeth and Percy went home to put Dama to bed,” Piper put in, “and Will’s staying with them, until Nico gets back, at least. And . . . I guess I’ll go back there, too. No point in going home, fall semester doesn’t start for another three weeks anyway. I came here for a wedding, you’re not fobbing me off with a dragon attack.”

Reyna laughed. “Or you could stay here. I’ve got a couch, and it’s probably pretty snug at Percy and Annabeth’s with all those people.”

“Yeah.” Piper bounced a little. “Sure, thanks.”

Hylla and Jason left, and Reyna let Piper in. Piper looked around curiously. Reyna didn’t always like sharing her space with people, but she was kind of glad not to be alone tonight.

“Oh, uh,” said Piper, pulling at the uneven hem of her dress, a turquoise taffeta thing, bridesmaid punk. “Could I borrow something to change into? I wasn’t expecting to stay overnight, and I didn’t bring anything else.”

“Are you sure you’re a daughter of Aphrodite?” As soon as she said it, Reyna felt her face flush; she wasn’t sure whether she’d just suggested that Piper was a clothes horse, or that she regularly engaged in random hookups. She covered her embarrassment by rooting through her closet until she found an old SPQR T-shirt, and threw it at Piper.

Reyna went to the bathroom to change into pajamas and brush her teeth. When she came back, Piper was wearing the T-shirt--it hugged her chest and hips, and looked a lot better on her than it ever had on Reyna--and playing with one of the horses in the model corral that sat on Reyna’s table along with the model ranchhouse and model stables.

“Nice dollhouse,” said Piper.

“It’s an _architectural model_. Annabeth made it. And, okay, I do play with the horses sometimes.” Rena picked up the wooden one Hazel had carved for Reyna’s last birthday and galloped it over to the horse Piper was holding. “Bucephalus, hurry! The hippocampi are invading the surface world!”

Piper giggled. “Is Annabeth going to make you a full-scale one someday?”

“Yeah,” said Reyna. “I’m mustering out next week--it’s the Feast of Fortuna, and I’ve served my ten years. Most people these days take their veteran’s grants in college scholarships, but I’m planning on taking mine the old-fashioned way, in land. I’ve got a spot by the lake all picked out. And Nico says he knows a guy in Texas who can set me up with breeding stock, flesh-eating horses, the works.”

“Eugh. I’m not so big on the flesh-eating.” Piper rested her chin on her hand, looking a little wistful. “But the rest of it sounds really nice, you know? When I was growing up, we always lived in fancy places, but none of them was ever home. The closest thing was Grandpa Tom’s house, back in Oklahoma. But Dad could never stay there for long. Maybe it’s a Cherokee thing. Ever since Andrew Jackson sent us on the Trail of Tears, we don’t feel safe settling down anywhere. Or I dunno, maybe it’s a demigod thing. But this,” she swept her hand over Reyna’s model ranch, “it’s an act of courage, and faith.”

Reyna shrugged. It didn’t seem particularly heroic to her. But when she tried to say _it’s just a house_ , the words stuck in her throat. It wasn’t.

“Anyway,” said Piper, “I should let you go to bed. You army types get up at dawn, right?”

“More or less.” Reyna yawned. It had been a long day. “But Piper--I’m glad you’re here.”

Piper was still crashed out on the couch when Reyna woke up the next morning. She went down to breakfast, but she hardly got a chance to eat anything; everyone wanted to ask her about Frank and Hazel, and she had no more news than she’d had last night. Don sat at the edge of the mess hall, sobbing. Reyna didn’t have the heart to kick him out.

She talked to the corps of engineers about the setup for paintball that evening, helped supervise a cavalry drill, took care of some correspondence (a task she usually left to Frank, who, among his other extraordinary talents, could spell), and went to the hospital to visit a legionnaire who’d been injured on a quest the week before, but it was hard to keep her mind on any of it. She picked up a sandwich at the hospital cafeteria and ate it on her way up Temple Hill.

Temple Hill was more crowded than it used to be, with bright new shrines for dozens of minor gods. That was Jason’s work. But the library, which was also a temple of Minerva, was Annabeth’s--Annabeth’s and Tyson’s. Reyna muttered a quick prayer when she went in, then climbed up three flights of stairs and a rickety ladder until she got to the librarian’s nest. The walls of the little attic space were lined with books, the tables covered in them, and the ceiling papered in odd scraps of writing, newspaper clippings, and photographs. There was Tyson in Poseidon’s underwater forges, Rachel and Grover taking a selfie with some local nature spirits in a mangrove forest, Frank and Hazel in full armor, covered in grime, grinning at the camera.

Ella was looking out her window over New Rome, preening herself; if she heard Reyna come in, she didn’t acknowledge her.

“Why didn’t you come to the wedding?” said Reyna. “Did you know something was going to go wrong?”

“Fauns and satyrs. Trees. Big angry stone goddesses. No, no.” Ella turned to face Reyna, fluttering her wings, shedding feathers. “What’s the Matter With Kansas? Thomas Frank, 2004.”

She didn’t know. Reyna had been hoping . . . she sat down heavily on the floor, sending up a drift of down and shredded paper, and described once again what had happened the day before. “Is there anything in the Sibylline Books about it? Does it say what we can do to help them?”

“ _Burnt wood will hold the hero’s life_ ,” said Ella, “ _who takes the swiftest one to wife._ ”

“Yes! That sounds right.” There wasn’t much that was faster than Hazel, on Arion. And Frank had told Reyna about his weakness when they’d started working together; he’d said she deserved to know. “What comes next?”

“ _Too quick to kindle, a mother’s wrath--_ ” Ella broke off and started scratching at the floor.

Reyna frowned. “But Frank and Hazel’s mothers are both dead. Is that why the Underworld--and kindle? Are the Amazons involved somehow? There must be more than that.”

“No more,” said Ella, scratching furiously. “Gone, crumbled. Very old.”

The Sibylline Books were old, but Ella had seen them intact, and they’d been destroyed by fire, not crumbled away. “Is this prophecy not from the Books, then? Something older? Ella--are you talking about Frank and Hazel, or Meleager and Atalanta?”

“Ella doesn’t know. The Beatles. Help. With a Little Help From My Friends. I Wanna Hold Your Hand. Ella doesn’t know!”

“All right.” Reyna reached out to Ella, trying to share some of her calm, but she didn’t have enough to penetrate Ella’s jangle of confusion. Ella fluttered up to the top of a bookcase and perched there. “It’s all right,Ella. It’s not your fault. You told me what you could, and maybe it will help.”

“Hello, Goodbye,” said Ella. 

“Okay, I’m going,” said Reyna. “When I hear anything, I’ll let you know.”

It was a promise Reyna had made too often that day. She didn’t like where she was going next, but it was the last thing she could think of to try.

The temple of Jupiter Optimus Maximus stood on the very top of Temple Hill; to reach it, Reyna had to pass the temple of Juno, where there were still sad-looking, half-eaten garlands of flowers hung from the trees. Annabeth was there, but she didn’t see Reyna. She was bent over some sort of contraption, along with a friend of hers--Felix, wasn’t it? He had mustered out after having both his legs crushed in the assault on Mount Othrys, and Reyna hadn’t really kept in touch, but she’d heard he’d gone into some kind of science-y field. He didn’t see her either; he was making an adjustment to the contraption in his lap. She should stop and see what they were up to--but that was just putting off the inevitable. She would ask them afterwards.

Unlike Ella, Flavia saluted Reyna as soon as she walked into the temple. She didn’t seem very happy to see her, though. “Hail, praetor,” she said. “What can I do for you?”

“I want an augury,” said Reyna.

“Why?” Flavia glared up at Reyna from beneath a thatch of light brown hair. “You didn’t like how I pointed out that you were doing nothing in front of the whole legion, so now you want to remind me how useless I am?”

“Look, Flavia, you were the one who insisted on keeping the augur thing going after the war with Gaea. I was willing to let it slide.”

“Of course you were. Respecting Rome’s traditions isn’t a priority for you, is it?” said Flavia.

Reyna shrugged. “I like to consider myself a practical woman. I’m willing to do anything that might help.”

“Even deal with me,” said Flavia. “So. What have you got?”

Reyna took the plush Rainbow Dash that she’d been carrying with her since she left her house that morning. Flavia turned it over and over in her hands. “You’re really worried,” she said. There was none of the usual sneer in her voice, only a grudging respect. “This is a worthy offering.”

She took out her knife and Reyna winced at it made its incision and Flavia scattered the stuffing over the altar. “A journey,” she said, gesturing at one bit of fluff with her knife. “A wedding. A conflict among the gods. A choice. An unexpected return.”

“An unexpected return?” It was the most hopeful thing Reyna had heard all day.

“Yes, but you’re expecting Frank and Hazel back, aren’t you? And everyone knows augury doesn’t work worth beans anymore.” Flavia sheathed her knife. “I’ve answered your question. Now you answer one of mine. What are you going to do about the elections?”

“I’ve said,” said Reyna. “I’m willing to support Mike. Frank says he can work with him, and that’s good enough for me.”

“And there’s no question of Frank losing the election, is there? Not when he’s sponsored a third of the Legion’s new recruits over the last six years.”

Reyna shouldn’t let Flavia get to her. Her hands clenched anyway. “You know that’s not why he sponsored them. Frank just can’t stand the thought of the Legion turning anyone away. And he’s stood by his probationers; he’s never tried to wriggle out of sharing their punishments or anything.”

“Yes, to think that Rome’s dignity has fallen so far that her praetors are publicly beaten with vine staffs. And he spends so much time on barley rations he might as well come to meals as a horse. But none of that is going to help him if he’s not back by the Feast of Fortuna. He can’t run if he’s not here.” Flavia crossed her arms and leaned back against the altar. “You may be willing to support Mike, but I doubt you’d be willing to support me. That’s fine. Just don’t get in my way, Reyna.”


	5. Piper

There was a nose pushing into Piper's face, cold but not slimy, which was one advantage of automaton dogs.

"All right, I'm up," Piper grumbled. Argentum stood over her with a cockeyed, open-mouthed grin, and Piper belatedly remembered that Reyna used her dogs for interrogations. But apparently what she'd said was close enough to the truth that Argentum padded over to the courtyard door and started scratching instead of tearing her to shreds.

She swung her legs to the floor and went to let Argentum out, but when she got there she found that the door was already ajar. Argentum nosed it open, which he could have done at any point, and looked over his shoulder at Piper like, _come play!_

"For a lie-detecting dog, you're a shameless liar," Piper told him. She went to the kitchenette and fixed herself a coffee and some cereal, and then had to decide whether to put yesterday’s party dress back on or keep wandering around in a T-shirt and nothing else. She settled on swiping one of Reyna’s togas and wearing it as a wraparound skirt. Then she did go to the courtyard and play frisbee with the dogs for a while before heading out to Camp Jupiter to see if there was any news.

Her quest wasn't notably successful. She couldn't find Reyna, Annabeth, or Jason anywhere. She did find Percy, but he was wrangling a toddler while trying to explain the difference between a Lastrygonian Giant and a Hyperborean Giant to a dozen hyperactive kindergarteners, so Piper decided not to bother him. Finally, she caught up with Will in one of the coffee shops. He was on his way to lend his hand to the medics, who were setting up their first-aid station for the afternoon's deathball match. "You want to come along, Dr. McLean?"

Piper laughed. She was going to start her first year of medical school in the fall, same as Will, but years of quests and, in Will's case, running the infirmary at Camp Half-Blood, had given them experience that very few of their fellow incoming students could match. "Sure thing, Dr. Solace," she said. "So, um, have you heard anything from Nico, or . . . ?"

"He came in early this morning." Will nodded absently to Terminus as they crossed the Pomerian Line, on their way to the Field of Mars; Piper blew the god a kiss. "He was really . . . on top of being up all night, he'd been using his underworld powers a lot, and you know how he gets. And I knew that if he'd found out where Hazel or Frank were he wouldn't have come back without them—if we were really lucky he might have called for help if they were in trouble he couldn't handle—so I just made sure he got to sleep. He'd been out for ten hours when I left. He might be out for ten hours more. You know."

"Yeah," said Piper. Will was right that Nico couldn't have any important news, and anyway, he was back, and that was one less thing to worry about. So she tried to swallow her frustration along with a bite of her bagel. Will sipped at his coffee.

“Are you going back to your dad’s?” he said. “You know we’ll keep you posted as soon as there’s any news.”

“Yeah, well. He’s filming on location in Mexico, so it’d just be me and the housekeeper. I should visit New Rome more often anyway, but even when I was dating Jason, I never really . . . all these Roman virtues. Duty, self-denial, stability.” For some reason, Piper thought of Reyna’s model ranch house. “Do you think you could ever settle down here? Permanently, like Annabeth and Percy?”

“Di immortales, no,” said Will. “That so-called bagel you’re eating? It’s just round bread.”

Piper aimed a swat at the back of his head, and Will ducked deftly without spilling any coffee. By this time they could see the engineers putting the finishing touches on the deathball terrain, fixing sharpened stakes at the bottom of pit traps, hauling out racks of deathball markers. Justine, the legion’s chief surgeon, waved at Piper and Will from the door of the medics’ tent. Soon Piper was sorting packets of powdered unicorn horn and making sure they had enough bandages, awash in gossip about people she barely knew. When she heard the tromp of hundreds of sandalled feet, she ducked out of the tent in time to see Reyna swoop down over the field on her pegasus. Her braid and cloak snapped out behind her, and her legs were bare beneath her armored skirt, gripping the pegasus’ flanks--there were some Roman virtues that Piper could definitely appreciate.

Reyna shouted instructions, and the legion swung into motion, dividing into teams, centurions scrambling to get the best weapons for their cohorts. It wasn't long before the first cry of "Medic!" went up from the field--someone's tagger had jammed while they were loading it, and the deathball had exploded in a burst of Greek Fire--and after that everything was a blur.

At first Piper was on nurse duty, finding supplies, holding hands and murmuring encouragement to legionnaires who were being stitched up. But soon enough all the more senior medics were busy with patients, and it was Piper’s turn to run out onto the field when a call for help was heard.

“Where’s the casualty?” she panted once she'd reached the second line of fortifications, where she’d heard the call from. She’d had to push her way through the thick of the fighting, but here there were only about a dozen warriors, and it looked like they were all on the same side. One of them paused long enough to point Piper in the direction of a defensive trench before shouldering her tagger and vaulting over a coil of razor-wire, heading towards the battle.

Piper slid carefully down the side of the trench, mindful of the sharpened stakes at the bottom. There was a young man sprawled there, arms and legs covered in shallow, jagged cuts from his fall, but the real trouble was his shoulder: no blood, but an inky and spreading stain beneath the skin. Piper felt queasy as she identified the poison. Capture the flag back at Camp Half-Blood could get pretty intense, but nobody three would have used centaur’s-blood venom.

“That looks nasty,” she said. “Shouldn't you be wearing armor?”

“S’posed to be invisible,” said the kid. “Bright-eyed bitch.”

“Least she called you a medic. You a demigod?”

The kid shook his head. “Legacy.”

Piper regretfully took her hand off the flask of nectar at her hip and drew her dagger instead. “I’m going to have to drain the poison. Hold still; this is gonna sting a little.”

The kid set his teeth and couldn't keep his eyes off Piper’s dagger; he gave a little gasp when she made an incision across the infected area. “Hey, that doesn't actually hurt much,” he said.

“I could have said, ‘This won’t hurt a bit,’ but sometimes people are creeped out when I cut them and they don't feel anything,” Piper informed him with a grin. She kept up the pressure on the wound until the dark fluid started to run bright red, then she sprinkled some powdered unicorn horn on and bandaged it up. As she did, she took a closer look at her patient. Short and skinny, with buzz-cut hair and a Mercury tattoo and two years’ service marked on his arm-- “Hey, I know you. With the corps of engineers, Robin, right? You're not part of this exercise. What are you doing on the field?”

“Waiting for the Fifth Cohort to reach the second line of fortifications. Then I’ll give Flavia the signal and she’ll move her unit into place while I trigger the trap--” He clapped his hands over his mouth, looking young and terrified. “I wasn't supposed to tell you that! Flavia’ll flay me alive.”

“What trap?” Piper could see Robin trying not to answer this time, and she said, “Tell me! What happens when you don't give Flavia the signal and you don’t trigger the trap?”

“It’ll trigger anyway when the cohort gets close,” said Robin miserably. “It works by underground vibrations, so--”

Piper looked up, but she couldn't see the field from down in the trench, or how close the Fifth was to disaster. All she could see was blue sky overhead, and Reyna making a sweep on her pegasus-- “Reyna!” Piper called, but she didn't turn, didn't seem to hear. Piper cupped her mouth with her hands, drew on all the power of her voice, and shouted, “YO, REF!”

“Wait! Don't--” Robin squeaked, but it was too late. The walls of the trench had already begun to shake. Piper only had enough time to realize that she should have paid more attention when the kid mentioned underground vibrations, and to throw her body across his, before the walls caved in.

She came to on a cot in the medics’ tent. Everything hurt, and Will was standing over her with a frown of professional concern. “Oh good, you're up.”

Piper rubbed her head. Her hand worked, at least, and the other one, and her left toes wiggled. The right ones didn't, though, and when she looked she saw her entire leg was encased in a cast. Great.

“Is Robin okay?” she asked.

“For now,” said Will. “I wouldn't give much for his chances once Reyna gets her hands on him. She's seriously pissed.”

“Almighty Aphrodite, I’ll bet.” Piper winced, and it had nothing to do with her various aches and pains. Reyna probably wasn't real pleased with her either. “How many people were hurt?”

“Half a dozen injuries, all minor,” said Will. “You managed to collapse the fortifications before most of the legion reached them, so we’re counting you as a hero on this one.” He punched her lightly on the shoulder. “That'll happen if you keep pulling stunts like shielding people with your body, you dope. Your leg is broken in four places.”

Piper shrugged, which didn't hurt any worse than anything else. “I had worse when I was ten years old, skiing with my dad.” She sipped at the cup of nectar Will handed her. It tasted like the coffee she’d had at Reyna’s that morning, and she didn't want to think about what that meant. “The doctor thought she must have mixed my x-rays up with someone else's; she couldn't see how else I’d healed so fast.”

Will rolled his eyes. “Yes, I know, you're a big tough demigod who laughs at pain and eats basilisks for breakfast. You're still going to need a crutch to get around for the next couple of days at least.”

He had one ready for her, and they spent a few minutes adjusting it to her height and walking around making sure she was comfortable, then Will pronounced her fit to go. Which was good, because Piper was starting to get real curious about the argument she could kind of hear outside. 

It wasn't the entire legion clustered outside the medics’ tent, but it was a lot of them. Reyna was glowering down at a young woman whose tattoo was a harp with six tally marks--Piper didn’t recognize her, but Reyna, Frank, and Rachel had all complained that the legion’s current augur was as big a pain in the ass as the last one. So Piper assumed that was Flavia.

“Thought you’d make yourself a hero and take out some of the people who were likely to vote against you at the same time?” Reyna said.

“Robin’s lying,” Flavia answered flatly. 

Piper stepped out from the tent, and said, “Not to me.”

Reyna whirled around, and for a moment her smile was the brightest thing Piper had ever seen, and it warmed her belly more than ambrosia or nectar. There were scattered cheers from the crowd, too. It looked like Will was right; at least some of them thought she was a hero.

But Flavia didn't turn a hair. “Is the graeca one of your dogs now, praetor? Anyway, everyone knows that Robin would say whatever she told him to say. I’m sure a more thorough investigation will get to the bottom of what happened, but you don't have to worry about that. You'll be retired by then, and seeing as how no one was seriously hurt, I doubt the new leadership will be interested in pursuing any criminals beyond the borders of Rome.”

“Is that so.” Reyna’s voice dropped to a venomous hiss, but Piper didn't think anyone was having trouble hearing her. “I won’t be threatened. And I won’t be retired. Hear this: if Frank Zhang is not back by the Feast of Fortuna, I will re-enlist. You will never be praetor of the Twelfth Legion if I can help it.” Then she looked around, as if she was noticing the crowd for the first time. “Twelfth Legion--I dismissed you like an hour ago. Don't any of you have anything better to do?”

Then she swung herself up onto her pegasus’ back and flew off.

“Well,” said Flavia. “That was a stirring campaign speech.”

Piper thought she knew where Reyna was going. It took a while to hobble over there on her crutch, but she wasn't wrong. Reyna just kept fussing with her curry-brushes or whatever horsey tools they were, her back towards Piper as she came into the stables, but the rubdown didn't seem to be doing much to calm either Reyna or the pegasus.

“You can't do this,” said Piper. 

“Sorry, I don't recall anyone busting me down to probatio and making you my sponsor,” said Reyna. “I can do what I want.”

“You're telling me this is what you want? You showed me your house--your dream--you shouldn't have to give it up just ‘cause--look, I know Flavia’s bad news. But we can find someone else to run for praetor.”

“We?” Reyna rounded on Piper, eyes red-rimmed and bright with tears. “If you interfere with a Roman election in any way, I swear I will have you gagged before you're thrown into the Little Tiber in chains.”

It was like the wall that had fallen on Piper a couple of hours back; it knocked the breath out of her, left her speechless with fury. When she finally got her words back after a couple of seconds, the only thing she could say was, “ _Really?_ ”

For a minute neither of them moved or spoke, and Reyna’a ragged breathing was unnaturally loud in the silence. Then she sat down heavily on a low stool that was pushed under the horsey things.

“Sorry. That was out of line,” she said. “It’s just--that self-righteous little fuckhead could have gotten you killed. And this isn’t your fight.”

“Don't say that,” said Piper. “You're my friend, it’s my fight. You may be the legion’s only praetor for now, but that doesn't mean you have to do everything yourself. Let me help.”

Reyna tilted her head back and looked up at Piper, more vulnerable than Piper had ever seen her--she never thought Reyna would bare her neck to anyone. “Piper--”

“Oh, good, you’re here too, Piper,” said a voice behind her.

“Jason,” Piper sighed. “Have I ever told you that you have the gods’ own worst timing?”

“Oh, um, sorry . . .” Jason looked from Piper to Reyna, clearly not sure what he’d just interrupted. Piper wasn’t sure either, but she wished she’d had a chance to find out.

“Never mind,” said Reyna, standing and straightening her her cloak and armor skirt, which Piper hadn’t even gotten to mess up. “What’s going on?”

“Nico’s awake,” said Jason. “And Annabeth says she’s figured out some stuff, so we’re all meeting at Percy and Annabeth’s. You guys coming?”

“Of course,” said Reyna, and she was on her pegasus and airborne without a backwards glance.

Jason held out a hand to Piper. “Want a lift?”

She didn’t, really, but she also didn’t want to miss anything, or make everyone wait for her to make her slow way back to New Rome. So she stepped into Jason’s arms, and they took off. Once they were airborne, Jason said, “So, are you and Reyna . . . ?”

“No,” said Piper. “Look, can you do me a favor and forget I said anything, or that you saw anything? The last thing any of us need is more drama now, right?”

“That’s for sure.” Jason laughed ruefully. “But, you know, I’m here if you want to talk about . . . anything.”

“Thanks. I don’t.” But after a minute of silent flight, Piper regretted snapping at him; it wasn’t his fault. “I do appreciate the offer, though,” she added. “You’re a good friend.”

Jason blushed and smiled one of his absurdly bashful, absurdly charming smiles. Suddenly it was like they were fifteen again, floating high above the floor of the Grand Canyon as he held her in his arms for the first time . . . Piper hated that he could still twist her insides up like that, after all these years. She’d had boyfriends after Jason--even a couple of girlfriends--but nothing serious, nobody she couldn’t leave behind with as few regrets as she left a hotel room in some strange city where her dad had been shooting.

But it wouldn’t be like that with Reyna.

She was there before them, and so was Will, and Nico in a bathrobe still looking like death warmed over, all squeezed into Annabeth and Percy’s small living room. There was also a guy she didn’t recognize, ex-legion from the tattoo on his arm--one of a pair of the sort of gorgeously-defined arms that wheelchair users sometimes got.

“Hey, guys. Annabeth’s just putting Damasen to bed, we’ll get started in a minute,” said Percy, bringing in more chairs from somewhere. “Piper, have you met Felix? He was a lab partner of Annabeth’s in college.”

Just then Annabeth came downstairs, looking frazzled but happy. There was a short round of greetings and everyone finding places to sit, and then Annabeth said, “So you remember those formulas Leo left on Ogygia?”

Percy groaned. “You holed yourself up for like a month with those formulas after I found them, and barely said two words to me the whole time. And you never got anywhere with them.”

“Not true,” said Annabeth. “I never found Leo with them. But they were interesting anyway. Felix and I did some work on them for a group project in Magical Physics, which is why I thought he might be able to help with this . . . what Hazel said, about Calypso not being there, and what the wind spirits told you, Jason--I thought, what if Festus and Calypso were here in New Rome, but not now?”

“We’re looking at time travel, essentially,” said Felix. “The thing is, it’s only possible with a massive expenditure of divine energy--like when Gaea was defeated, or the end of the first Titan war, when the gods first created Calypso’s prison. But what we found out is that these major disruptions have some similarities to more minor time-distortion effects--”

“Like when we were in the Lotus Hotel, or the Labyrinth,” Annabeth finished. “And they leave traces which it’s possible to measure. So Felix was able to build a device which told us when Calypso had come from. But I’m not sure it helped much. Does April 10th, 1934 mean anything to anyone?”

Nico looked up, visibly shaken. “That’s the day my mother died.”

“Your mother?” said Reyna. “Ella said something about--”

Before Reyna could finish her sentence, the door was flung open. It was Mike Kahale, a brother of Piper’s on the Roman side, wearing full armor and trailed by a mousy-looking girl Piper didn’t know. She’d always gotten along well enough with Mike, but Reyna looked like she’d just bitten into something nasty.

“Mike,” said Percy, “this is a private party. You ever hear of knocking?”

Mike ignored him. “Nico Di Angelo, I arrest you in the name of the Senate and People of Rome. Come with me to the--”

“The praetor is right here, you idiot,” said Reyna, rising to her feet. “And you had damn well better have a specific accusation to make this time. And evidence to back it up.”

“We do,” said the mousy girl, then cringed back as she drew the full force of Reyna’s glare. “Sorry, Reyna! I know he’s your friend and--and Hazel always stood up for him. But we’ve been searching Frank’s house, with magic like Hazel taught me, and . . . well, Nico was the last person to see him alive.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once upon a time I read a series of Roman murder mysteries by John Maddox Roberts, and the formula that they used to arrest people was "come with me to the praetor." I have no idea whether this is historically accurate but I put it in here anyway.
> 
> Also, here's my [tumblr](http://minutia-r.tumblr.com/), if you're interested. I post stuff on it sometimes?


	6. Bianca

When they came--three men in business suits, with false smiles and cold, pitiless eyes--Nico kicked and bit and scratched.

“Go away!” he screamed, and they actually fell back a couple of steps before making another grab for him. “I want my _mother_!”

“Shut up,” said Bianca tightly. Part of her wanted to roll on the ground howling with Nico. But that was babyish behavior, and she wasn’t a baby, and what did it matter who wanted to take them where, anyway? Their mother was dead. Bianca had seen the explosion, could still see the flash of light behind her eyelids when she closed them, but that wasn’t how she knew. She had _felt_ her mother’s spirit slip from the world of the living to the world of the dead. Nico had felt it too. But he was too young to understand.

“Miss Di Angelo,” said one of the men appealingly, like he expected her to help him with Nico, like she was on their side. Fat chance. Maybe she wasn’t biting him, but--he thought he could handle Nico? Let him try. “Your father wants you two to come with us.”

“That’s a _lie!_ ” Nico yelled. “He wouldn’t send us off with strangers, without even talking to us--”

“He’s very busy,” said the man. “He told us to take you to a place where you’ll be safe, a good place, and he’ll come for you later.”

While the man was talking one of his associates got Nico around the waist. Nico twisted, and the man’s arm tightened--tightened and changed, the nails growing long, and Nico started screaming in real pain. Bianca could feel the difference in her gut, the same way she felt the difference between alive and dead, and before she knew what she was doing she charged the man, head-butting him in the side so that he dropped Nico, if only in sheer surprise.

"You don't touch him," Bianca panted. "You don't--" The--it wasn't a man, it was a thing--clapped its hand over her mouth, stopping her words, and lifted her off her feet.

Nico cried out, "Help! Somebody help us!" But they were both captured, and the creatures, not bothering to pretend anymore to be people, unfolded their wings and took off into the shadows.

It was cold, and darker than any shadow Bianca had ever known. The dead pressed in on all sides, souls on their journey from life to death, hurrying Bianca and Nico and the three creatures along with them. The souls drank all light, swallowed Nico's cries for help without leaving an echo.

It was like a nightmare. The sort where Bianca knew what was coming, but couldn't shake herself awake, and no one heard, and no one helped, and there was nothing to do but live through it until it ended the way it always did, headfirst in the river with the water filling her nose and mouth.

Only this time someone came. A soul, traveling in the opposite direction. It burned so brightly Bianca could hardly stand to look at it, but she could see it was a boy a few years older than herself, and he was smiling like he thought he'd done something really smart. 

And Nico reached for him, gave a great wrench and tore himself free from the arms of his captor--and fell. She heard his terrified scream in the silence of the shadows, high and faint and suddenly, sickeningly cut off--

Bianca woke up, shaking and breathing hard. She couldn't remember what she'd dreamed, but she knew she wanted hot chocolate. And maybe some of those chicken wings with the tangy dressing. So she called room service.

While she was waiting, the last scraps of the dream fled, and her terror with them. All that was left was an ache right behind her breastbone, like she had misplaced half herself somewhere. There was no reason for that she could think of, and she felt so stupid about it that she nearly called the room service people back and canceled her order. But then they’d have gone to a lot of trouble for nothing, wouldn't they, and Bianca would look even stupider, and anyway she wanted those chicken wings.

She was looking for some change to tip the room service lady with, and finding nothing in her bedside table but a small rectangle of stiff plastic, when the knock on the door came. There was steam rising off the hot chocolate and marshmallows floating on top, and the wings smelled great. “I’m sorry,” said Bianca, “I don't have any--”

“You can charge everything to your Lotus Cash Card. You're holding it right there,” said the lady in a friendly voice, like it was a mistake anyone might have made. Bianca still bristled.

“I know what a credit card is.” She did, too. She wasn't a baby, like--

Like who?

And were these the pajamas she’d worn when she'd gone to bed? She'd thought those had stripes, but--no, they were printed with some sort of blue cartoon animal, of course they were.

She went back to bed, snuggled under the blankets and watched a movie as she ate her snacks, which were just as delicious as they’d smelled. The Lotus Hotel and Casino was a good place.

But somehow she couldn't get back to sleep, so she went down to the arcade. She had nearly beat her best score in a shooting game when she felt a presence behind her.

Rattled, she missed her next shot and got blown up by the bad guys. She wasn't in a very charitable frame of mind when she turned around. The man standing there was wearing some sort of tunic and a gold circlet on his head, and his beard was pointed like a spear. None of that bothered Bianca--you got a lot of weird types at the Lotus--but there weren't many people at the arcade at this hour, and they mostly kept to themselves.

“I'm sorry to trouble you,” said the man, “but I can't figure out this game, and you seem so at home with these machines. My daughter was always better at this sort of thing than me.”

Bianca looked around, and was reassured by the sight of a solid-looking security guard by the door. She could always call him if this guy turned out to be a creep.

“Okay,” she said, and followed him to a corner of the arcade. There was a curtained booth there, like an old-fashioned nickelodeon--Bianca thought she'd seen one before, but she sure had never seen it in the Lotus, where they always had the latest stuff.

The man seemed to blend into the shadows in the dark corner, and Bianca realized something--something that weirdly made her feel safer with him. “You're dead, aren't you?”

“For many years now, Mistress,” said the ghost with a thin-lipped smile. “I might have known that you wouldn't be easy to fool. Most gods, you know, favor their sons, but your father always saw the potential in you as much as in your brother.”

None of that made any sense, and part of it made Bianca feel like she’d swallowed a lump of ice. The ghost slipped inside the booth and Bianca pushed the curtain aside and followed him, whatever caution she'd started out with forgotten. “I don't have a brother,” she said.

“Don't you?” said the ghost.

A movie was playing on the screen. A black and white one, naturally. There was a woman sitting on a couch, and a man standing and talking with her, but there was no sound, and Bianca couldn't see them well. The woman's face was hidden by a veil, and the man stood with his back to the camera. Bianca’s attention was arrested instead by the two children playing around their feet. She caught a glimpse of the girl's face as she ran between the couch and a table, and recognized herself with a jolt. She didn't look much younger--it couldn't have been that long ago--but she didn't remember--

And the boy, tumbling over the top of the couch. “Nico,” Bianca whispered. Her throat felt so tight she could barely get the word out. She never cried--she didn't think she ever cried--but there were tears running down her face that she didn't remember starting. 

When you got right down to it, there wasn't much Bianca _did_ remember.

The ghost was watching her watch the movie, the same faint smile on his face. At that moment it was only the knowledge that he was already dead that stopped Bianca from trying to kill him with her bare hands. She tried to tell herself that it was some trick of his, some lie, but she knew it wasn't.

“Nico died,” she said. “There was--”

The movie changed. It was in color this time, the warm colors of a Mediterranean summer, and that was achingly, inexplicably familiar too. Bianca wondered if she knew the couple walking along the rocky beach--teenagers, a dark girl and a tall, wide, boy--but she didn't feel the jolt of recognition until they came up to another boy.

Bianca’s breath caught. He’d shone so brightly the last time she'd seen him, and now he was just ordinary-looking. Small and skinny, with dark skin and darker hair, sticking-out ears poking through his curls. But the light Bianca had seen in him was still there, hidden beneath the surface. He was so--

He’d let Nico fall to his death. If he hadn't been there--if Nico hadn't reached out for him--well, probably whatever had happened to Bianca would've happened to Nico too. And _she_ was okay. This boy had as good as killed Nico.

“Who are they?” said Bianca. 

“They should be dead.” Until now, the ghost had spoken in a careless drawl, as though nothing he said mattered very much, but now Bianca heard the steel underneath. “And your brother should be alive. Now I ask you, is that fair?”

Bianca knew the answer to that one. “Life’s not fair.”

“Isn't it _fortunate_ ,” said the ghost, pronouncing the word like a curse, “that neither you nor I has anything to do with life? There is a way to restore the balance. I could teach you.”

“Tell me,” said Bianca. “Tell me everything I need to know.”

In the shadows of the little movie booth, Bianca thought for a moment she could see another presence, small and solemn-eyed, shaking its head and mouthing wordlessly at her. But when she turned to get a better look, it was gone.

Over the next while--Bianca hadn't noticed before, not until she had a purpose, how hard it was to keep track of the days at the Lotus--the ghost told her about her father, Hades, lord of the dead, and about her own powers. When she asked about her mother and Nico, he was more evasive, but those memories were slowly starting to come back on their own. He never told her anything about himself except his name, which was Minos.

It sounded familiar, like Bianca really should have known it, and she tried to look him up in the library--it turned out the Lotus had a really nice library. But it was creepy to go in there and always see the same people sprawled in the same comfy armchairs, never looking up from their books. Didn't they ever have to go to the bathroom or anything? Anyway, the library didn't have any books on Greek mythology.

Minos taught Bianca how to travel through the shadow, and how summon the dead, and slowly she grew more skilled at bending them to her will. She trained against skeleton opponents in the gym--the Lotus’ gym was even creepier than the library--and learned the ritual that would bring Nico back. A life for a life.

It was hard to leave the Lotus when the time came. If Minos hadn't been pushing her, she probably wouldn't have been able to do it. And as soon as she went outside, she felt disoriented and gross all of a sudden, like she'd just woken up from an unplanned afternoon nap on the couch, and now it was midnight.

But gradually her head cleared, and she realized: she could do whatever she wanted. Minos had warned her that there were monsters outside the Lotus, eager to kill demigods, but Bianca had never completely trusted him. Even if there were monsters, Bianca knew how to fight. She could handle them. She could find her father, ask him her questions. She could even do what ordinary kids did. Go to school, make friends. Grow up.

But not without Nico.

“Move quickly, Mistress,” Minos muttered by her ear. “Every moment you hesitate increases the danger.”

“I know what I’m doing,” Bianca said. She set her teeth and stepped into the shadows. They were as cold as ever, and Bianca had to remind herself that she wasn't a scared, helpless little kid now. She was in control, and she knew where she was going.

The bank of the Lethe, where Nico had fallen, where her powers were greater, close to her father's realm. Bianca made her offering, poured her libation, and chanted the spell of summoning. At the end of it, she raised her arms. “Leo Valdez, appear!” she intoned.

He had been dead, Minos had explained to her, and part of him was still dead. Like any other dead soul, he would come to her call.

It hadn't worked when she'd tried to call Nico or her mother. But it worked on Leo. He came--and he brought friends.

Bianca wasn't sure what the girl was, but she wasn't mortal; there was no part of her soul Bianca’s powers could touch. And the dragon was a dragon, and also an automaton. Bianca had thought the summoning would be the hard part, but it looked like she had a fight ahead of her. And Minos--like she'd suspected he might if things started to go wrong--had disappeared.

But it was easy to call spirits to fight for her this close to the underworld, and the siege she laid slowly wore away at their defenses, while they still didn't know who it was they were fighting.

They couldn't get away, but somehow they managed to bring in reinforcements. Bianca recognized the man who joined them from the movie Minos had shown her, and although she wasn't sure why he was grown up when the rest of them weren't, she knew he was another one who’d cheated death.

She also wasn't sure how the immortal and the dragon managed to escape without her minions stopping them. But that didn't matter; Bianca wasn't after them, and by the time they came back with help, it was too late. Bianca’s army of the dead drove Leo and his friend into the shadows, and then she had him.


End file.
